A Knock on the Door
by Adah
Summary: Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit. How is Harry going to explain Death’s presence to his friends? Think “Meet Joe Black”.
1. Meet Death

Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter and Co.  J.K. Rowling does.

Summary:  Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit.  How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".

**Author's note:**  This is a sixth year fic, so the fifth book does apply.  But you don't have to have read the fifth book to enjoy this!  Oh, and the next chapter will be much more coherent.  This is kind of like a prologue (a teaser, if you will).

Chapter 1: Meet Death

********

Death watched the battle taking place in front of the fountain inside the Ministry.  He had already taken care of all the people there whose time had come.  Now he was enraptured with the battle that was taking place before him.  He felt like he knew the boy with the scar.  How often the boy threw himself at Death, only to find out that it was not his time to leave the living world.  

And the man with the glowing red eyes.  The man who had visited Death.  The man had been so delighted to find out that it was not his time, either.  This man puzzled Death.  What motivated him to kill so many, and yet run so determinedly from Death?

The man with the glowing eyes was not faring so well in the battle.  But he need not worry—his time was not now.  Death was simply watching the battle because it involved two people with whom he was interested in.  Granted, the year before that had been much more… intricate between the man and the boy, but this year seemed much more… personal.

            The battle was ending and Death's concentration was needed elsewhere.  But the boy intrigued him.  Far from fearing the man who had killed so many people, he only became more determined to fight him.  

Death decided that he would watch the boy from time to time.  His life seemed… complex, and oddly difficult for someone his age.

            All throughout the next summer, Death breezed by and observed the boy every now and then.  The boy got letters from his friends, visits from various adults, and seemed, at least, to… coexist with his aunt, uncle, and cousin.  

The boy fascinated Death.  Death was used insanity, paranoia, chin-deep depression, even suicide from the people who have faced war and brutality.  But here was a boy that seemed to be the very center of death and cruelty, and yet he could still plod on with his life and do what other people expected of him.

            One day, Death decided that he would visit the boy.  See what the boy's life was like.  Try to understand why the boy kept flinging himself in Death's direction.  The boy had so much emotion in his life.  Indeed, he seemed to be entirely ruled by emotion.  Reason and rational seemed to be buried in the back of his mind.  It did not matter how often or how reasonably the adults warned the boy.  Death saw how they whispered "Don't go outside tonight" or cautioned "Block your dreams".  But all the warnings they gave were cast to the wind if the boy believed danger was close, especially if it concerned his friends.  Emotion was his driving force.  He had such a level of passion and occasionally… senselessness that Death had seen in very few people.  That is, in very few people who lived for so long.  Usually, people with that kind of personality had very short life spans.

            This is why Death chose to visit Harry Potter.  Besides, he knew the boy would have to acquiesce to Death's demands, and Death had not visited the world of the living in centuries.  This boy would be the ideal host.  A host who had friends and enemies, knew pain and happiness, and, most importantly, would be able to explain to Death what these emotions were all about.

There! That's the first chapter.  But really, you must stay tuned for the next chapter.  It's got dialogue (wow!), creepy voices, and the beginning of a great plot (at least, I think so…).  Harry meets Death (or the boy whose body Death has inhabited), Death annoys Harry, and friends are endangered.  It's going to be fun.


	2. Knock Knock

Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter and Co.  J.K. Rowling does.

Summary:  Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit.  How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".

**Author's note:**  Here is the second chapter!  Is that a plot I see?

Chapter 2: Knock Knock

********

Harry awoke with a start.  Someone had whispered his name.  Someone.  Some_thing_. Whispered it right into his ear.

            _Harry…_

            "Who's there?" asked Harry quietly.

            _Me…_

            The voice has a breathy, scratchy quality to it.  And it was right next to Harry.  He could almost feel a slight breath on his temple.  If the voice didn't sound so hollow, Harry would swear someone was wearing an invisibility cloak.

            Harry looked around wildly.  Where was the voice coming from?

            A light breeze caressed Harry's cheek.  Harry looked at the window, the door, but neither was open.  Maybe it wasn't a breeze… maybe it was more like a… sigh, a departure.  Harry shivered and pulled the blankets closer to him.  The situation felt ominous and cold.

            _I must be dreaming_, thought Harry.  He fluffed his pillow a few times, and then closed his eyes to fall asleep.

Someone was knocking on Harry's door the next morning.  Harry had to squint his eyes as he got out of bed.  The sun was shinning brightly through the window.  Hedwig ruffled her feathers in a sleepy manner as Harry tripped over his schoolbooks to open the door.

            "Uh… you're needed downstairs, Harry," said Dudley.

            "Fine, okay.  I'll be down in a minute."  Harry shut the door as Dudley turned away.

            Life with the Dursley's had improved, certainly.  He had fewer chores, he could do his schoolwork, Hedwig could fly free, and the Dursley's would actually let Harry receive visitors.  Of course, the one visitor Harry wanted to see most was the one visitor Harry could never see again.  Sirius.  Everything in school years and summers past mattered little when compared to the hope he once had in Sirius's presence and the pain he now felt in his absence.  Classmates (including Ron and Hermione) were not allowed to visit him, but the adults dropped by (mostly Remus and Tonks).  He looked forward to school starting (in a twelve days) when he would get to see his friends again.  At least it would be a distraction from the memories of last year.

            Harry filled Hedwig's water bowl and opened the cage door and window for her.  Then he got dressed and headed downstairs to see what his aunt wanted.

            Petunia smiled an eerily sweet smile (she had been doing that all summer) and asked Harry to set the table.  Harry knew that it was an effort for her just to smile, so he didn't put up a fight.  Besides, he felt so dejected and tired that his aunt could have told him to make breakfast, take out the garbage, and mow the law at the same time (just like she used to) and he still wouldn't have put up a fight.

            As Harry was placing down the forks, the doorbell rang.

            "You didn't tell me anyone was _visiting this morning" said Petunia with a hint of menace in her voice._

            "I didn't know anyone would be visiting this morning, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry.

            The doorbell rang again.

            "Would you like me to get it?" Harry was fairly sure that no one with an evil intent could enter the house, but he felt wary all the same.

            "Well of course.  _I'm certainly not answering it.  It might be one of your freak friends.  And don't expect my Dudley to answer it either."_

            "Okay, okay, I'm going," grumbled Harry.  It was probably just Tonks or Remus or somebody.

            Harry walked to the door.  Although, he had to admit that there was a feeling of… not fright or panic, but of _foreboding_…

            As he reached for the doorknob, he could hear the voice again.

            _Harry…_

            Harry pulled back his hand.

            The doorbell rang again.

            "Well?  Are you going to answer the door or not?" asked Aunt Petunia.

            Harry reached again for the doorknob.

            _Open it…_

            Harry took a deep, shaky breath (although he couldn't really understand _why_) and yanked the door open.

            On the front step stood a boy about his age.  He had light brown hair, a strong jaw, and a lean, angular frame.  His collarbones stuck out, his arms were strong but thin, and his fingers were long and knobby.  He wore casual slacks and an open necked collared shirt.  He looked sophisticated and refined.

            Harry just stared at the boy.  He was unnerved by the boy's eyes.  They looked so old and dark. They seemed to stare right through Harry.  If eyes were the windows into the soul, this boy had no soul.  The boy didn't seem evil (even evil people had souls; they just had very wicked souls), he just seemed… hollow, blank, otherworldly.

"Um… can I help you?" asked Harry finally, very uncertain about the whole situation.

            "Yes.  I am here to visit you."  The boy's words had a factuality to them, a finality.  As if everything he said was the end all and be all.  But then again… the boy sounded as if he were plucking words delicately out of the air, testing them, seeing how they sounded on his tongue.

            "Visit me?" asked Harry.  "Do I know you?"

            The boy laughed.  It sent shivers down Harry's spine.  

_You know me, or at least, you think you do_, said the voice Harry had been hearing.  The voice circled around Harry, until it was coming from the boy himself.

            "What _are_ you?"

            _I am the solitary.  I am the inevitable. I am the end we all hurdle towards._

            "And why would I think I know you?"

            _Why would you know me?_

            "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you.  And how can I hear you?"  Although Harry meant for his words to be harsh, Harry found himself voicing them with a certain awe and revere.

            _You can hear me because I am addressing you.  And you still have not answered my question._

            Harry was silent.

            _Who am I?_ asked the voice, a little more forcefully.

            "Would you like to come in, maybe?" asked Harry hesitantly.  The boy didn't seem evil, but he didn't seem to be a saint, either.  Whatever the boy's intentions were, Harry wasn't about to tell anyone he would have normally told if the boy was a Death Eater.  Somehow, the boy seemed beyond all that.  He seemed to command respect and a cautious step.

            _Who am I?  Answer me first._

            Harry started going through people in his head, but the boy reminded him of no one.

            _I am the thought that is always in the back of everyone's mind. I am obsessed over and feared from.  People ignore me and welcome me.  It is people's instinct to avoid me for as long as they can, but in the end, everybody meets me.  I am what you saw on the Halloween sixteen years ago, in the graveyard two years ago, and in the Ministry last year.  I am the very presence you do not fear except when it involves the ones you love.  You know who I am; you just will not say it.  Now, who am I?  Why do you know me?_

            Harry stared at the boy.  What he was saying (or whispering, or whatever Harry heard) sounded impossible, and yet the boy's eyes gave it all away.  Harry dawned with understanding.  It sounded inconceivable, wrong, and like a sure sign Harry was insane, but it was the only answer that truly made sense.

            "Why-- Why are you here?" asked Harry, not without fear.  "What do you want?"

            "I am here to visit you," repeated the boy. 

            Harry blinked.  "Okay… Come right in…" Harry moved out of the way and held the door for the boy.  "Aunt Petunia, I'm inviting a friend up to my room!" Harry called to his aunt.

            "Just be quiet!  Dudley is watching a TV program and he doesn't need the background noise!  And stay out of sight!  I don't want anything weird… Understand?" Petunia shouted from the kitchen.  She had become increasingly… lenient over the summer, as long as Vernon wasn't home and she wasn't entertaining.  The threats that she received from professors and other adults in Harry's life might have had something to do with her lenience as well.

            Harry and the boy went upstairs.

            "Okay," said Harry, once his door was closed and locked.  "What is going on?  And why are you here?  Has anything bad happened?"

            _Relax…_

            "Nothing bad has happened," said the boy nonchalantly, as he glances about the room.  "I just know things you do not."

            "Is something wrong with my friends?"  Harry started to panic.  Why was _Death_ sitting in his room talking about things Harry doesn't know?

            _I said relax…_

            Harry sat down on his bed and the boy stood in front of him.

            "I know you do not worry about death or pain to yourself," said the boy.  "But I know how much you care about others."

            Harry stood up quickly.  "What is this--"

            The boy's eyes flashed, silencing Harry's outburst.  "Just listen.  I know that one of your friend's time has come."

            "What?  What does that mean?" Harry asked harshly.  " 'Their time has come?' "

            "It means that I must take your friend away.  Your friend will be leaving this earth."

            Harry grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt.  "Speak English!  Are you going to murder one of my friends?  Is _that_ what you're saying??"

            "You forget whom you are talking to," said the boy as he calmly pushed Harry's arms off of him.  "You forget what I am saying."

            Harry took a few breaths to suppress his anger and panic and sat down on the bed.  He'd have to be _really_ dumb to piss of Death.  "Okay, okay.  I'm calm.  So you're saying that you're going to murder one of my friends."

            "I 'murder' nobody."

            "Fine.  Whatever.  Just tell me what's going on."

            "You are… impatient."  The boy looked thoughtful.  "There is really no need to be impatient."

            Harry was starting to get annoyed.  If one of his friends was going to die, he wanted to know as soon as he could.  He wanted to stop their death.  But Death seemed to have all the time in the world, and Harry didn't dare upset him by complaining out loud.

            The boy continued.  "I have watched your life for a while, and I see how much emotion exists in it."

            "Tell me about it."

            "Pain and grief, happiness and loyalty.  For this reason, I want you to give me a tour of your life."

            Harry felt confused.  "You _do_ know that my life pretty much revolves around death, right?  That I am famous because of it and pitied because of it, that I was basically born to it and it's my fate to administer it, and that, of course, my life will end with it.  It can't be all that different from your life."

            "It is much different.  I do not live, I exist.  I am not a material being.  I do not feel emotion.  I want to understand why there is emotion.  Therefore, you will show me that emotion by letting me participate in your life."  The boy examined his hands.  "Besides, I need a vacation."

            "So nobody will die while you're here?" asked Harry hopefully.

            "No.  Because I am an existence, I am always at work.  People will die, but my concentration will just be here, at the moment."

            "So no world wars?" said Harry cynically.

            Harry could swear he saw Death smile.  "No, there will be no world wars."

            "So what about my friend?" asked Harry  "Why can't you save them?"

            "You are going to save your friend," said Death.

            "_Me_?"

            "Yes. The longer you interest me, the longer I can allow your friend to live.  When I go back, your friend will come with me."

            Harry had tons of questions to ask, but there was one in particular that he dreaded.  "Who--" started Harry shakily, "Can you tell me, who is going to die?"

            The boy smiled.  "I do not think that will make your life very interesting.  I do not want you to be grieving the whole time I am here."

            "What?" Harry spluttered.  "You're not going to tell me?  How can I save them if I don't know who it is?"

            "By having an interesting life, of course.  By showing me feelings, emotions.  By being my guide."

            Harry was at a loss.  "But I have to know!  You can't leave me worried like this!"

            The boy raised an eyebrow.  "So you are worried right now?  Why?  You have nothing to worry about as long as you do what I tell you."

            "But--"

            "You can start making your life interesting by forgetting about knowing whose time is up," reminded Death. " You do not need to know."

            Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration.  This was going to be complicated.

Thank you to all the brave people who reviewed this fic after that very cryptic first chapter!

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Love to all,

Adah

P.s. If you want me to e-mail you when I update this story, write down your e-mail address in the review box or in an e-mail to me (see my bio page).  Even if you've requested e-mails from me about my other stories, please tell me if you want e-mails about this one (that way I don't send e-mails to people who don't want them and I remember to sent e-mails to the people who do want them).  Thanks!


	3. Room and Board

Disclaimer:  I don't own Harry Potter and Co.  J.K. Rowling does.

Summary:  Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit.  How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".

**Author's note:**  And another chapter!  Oh, how I love this story!  (If I do say so myself…)

Chapter 3: Room and Board

********

"So, you're going to need to stay somewhere…" said Harry to the boy.

            "I am staying here," said Death.

            "Here?"

            "Yes, with you."

            Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "My aunt's going to kill me…"

            "I am sure you will find a way to explain it."

            "But how--"

            Death looked into Harry's eyes.  "I am sure you will find a way to explain it," he repeated.

            Harry got the message.  Death was staying.

            "All right, let me just go downstairs and talk to her.  But I don't think she'll agree…"  Harry headed towards his door.

            "Good.  I will come with you."

            Harry turned around.  "Why don't you just stay here?"

            "I would like to meet your aunt."

            "Trust me, you don't."

            Death walked towards the door.  "And I do not think you are in a position to tell me what I want."

            Harry gritted his teeth.  "Fine."

            Harry and the boy walked downstairs.  Aunt Petunia was by the window watching the neighbors.

            "Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry.  "Is it okay if my friend stays with me?"

            Petunia turned around sharply.  "What?"

            Harry took a deep breath.  "My friend," he gestured towards the boy.  "He needs a place to stay.  It's only until I go to school."

            "And just who is your friend?" asked Petunia harshly.

            "Um… he's… not like me.  He's… normal."  Harry was trying to appeal to Aunt Petunia's abhorrence towards "freaks".  "He's a friend from down the street.  His family's on vacation."

            "Oh really?  And who is his family?"  
            "Um… they're new to this neighborhood… they just moved here."

            "I didn't hear about anyone moving in."  Aunt Petunia peered out the window as if she would be able to see the new family Harry was talking about.

            Harry took a side-glance at Death.  He seemed amused by the whole situation.  "Um… that's because they haven't moved in yet," said Harry quickly.  "They _will_ be moving in.  But they're taking a vacation first."

            "Without their son?" asked Aunt Petunia skeptically.

            Harry decided to switch tactics.  "Well, his older brother got into the same school I go to--"

            Aunt Petunia glared at Harry.  "I thought you said he was normal."

            "He is!  I mean, only his brother is… like me.  His parents are normal too.  But he couldn't go visit my school with his brother because they only want to meet the parents and the student."

            Petunia wrinkled her nose.  "This never happened with your mother or you.  _I_ was never left behind, although I gladly would have been…those _freaks."_

            Harry had an idea.  "But _Hogwarts_ wants me to take care of him while his family is gone.  They _asked_ me too."

            That got her.  Petunia pursed her lips.  "Fine.  But only until his family returns.  As soon as they're back, he's going straight home.  I've already got enough of a headache with you around."

            "Don't worry.  When I leave for school, he'll leave."  Harry smiled.  "Thanks Aunt Petunia."

            "And mow the lawn.  If a new family is moving in, I don't want our house looking like a dump."

It was an uncharacteristically bright day.  Harry pushed the lawn mower back and forth over the lawn.  Death followed him slowly.

            "So what are you feeling right now?" asked Death.

            "Hot."

            Death looked thoughtful.  "Yes, it is… warm out here.  But I was talking about your emotions."

            "I'm feeling tired, frustrated, and irritable," said Harry with annoyance.  "And why are you following me?"

            "I enjoy the exercise."

            Harry finished with the lawn and turned off the mower to put it away in the garage.  He still couldn't believe that Death was visiting him.  It didn't make much sense, even for Harry.  And there was no way that Harry was going to tell Dumbledore or anyone about Death's visit.  It could cause problems, especially if Death wasn't going to reveal who would be dying.  People would most likely assume Harry was insane, anyway.  That always happened whenever Harry saw something unusual.  And Harry had just convinced everybody that Voldemort had returned.  He didn't want to go through last year again.  Yes, it was better if he kept Death's visit under wraps… _after all, I wouldn't want to spoil Death's vacation_, thought Harry a bit bitterly.

            Harry turned towards Death, who was examining Vernon's car.  "Um, how are you here?" he asked rather vaguely.  
            "What do you mean?" asked the boy, pushing the door's lock up and down through the open window.

            "I mean, if you're not a material thing, then how can I see you?  How can you touch things?"

            "I borrowed a body."

            "You mean you…"

            "Took someone's body," Death finished.

            "In English.  Does that mean you killed someone just to come here?"

            Death stopped flipping the lock.  "I needed a body," he said simply.

            "But what about the boy's family?  Aren't they upset??"

            "I guess so."  Death moved toward the wall of Vernon's tools.

            "That's incredibly heartless."

            "Heartless?  And what does that feel like?" asked Death as he examined a pair of pliers.

            "Feel like?  You just killed a kid my age and you want to know what heartless feels like??"

            "Yes."

            Harry looked angrily at Death.  "'Heartless' is when you do cruel things for fun.  When you don't care about the people you're hurting.  'Heart'-'less'… 'without a heart'.  Get it?"

            Death held the pliers up to the light as he opened and closed them.  "It looks like you and I might not get along as well as I thought.  You do not seem to understand what I do."  Death set the pliers down and turned to face a rather upset Harry.  "You see, Harry," explained Death.  "Because I am a spirit, I do not have a heart.  So by default, I will always be 'heartless', according to your definition."

            "You just shouldn't be killing people for no reason!  That's what I meant!" burst out Harry.

            The boy's eyes flashed angrily.  "I had a reason.  The boy's time to leave was coming and I needed a body to visit this world.  So I had two reasons."  Death paused a moment and Harry didn't dare cut in.  Death's stare was enough to silence him.  "Harry, do you understand what my purpose is?" asked Death.

            "Um…"

            "I take things away from this earth.  I am autumn.  I am winter.  I am war. I am famine.  I am disease.  The virus.  The flu.  I am the car running the red light.  I am the drive by shooting.  I am the man with the gun.  I am the thoughts that drive a person to take their life away.  I am the fire on a plane.  I am the hole in a parachute. I am the hydrogen bomb.  I am every fatal bullet, every deadly poison, every last breath.  I am Death, and I am nothing else.  My purpose is to lead people away from their life.  You do not blame Time for your aging or Life for the unwanted child.  Nature does not grieve for her floods and Fate does not mourn an unhappy ending.  So why are you angry with me?  I am merely caring out my purpose, like all the other elements.  I am necessary.  Just think of a world without me."

            Harry stared wide-eyed at Death.  His speech was frank and oddly powerful.  Harry imagined what it would be like without Death.  True, there would be no wars and no Voldemort, and Harry's parents would still be alive, but the world would also be filled with a huge amount of immortal people.  Harry thought back to Nicholas Flammel.  Even he got tired of immortality.  And the suffering.  Without Death, there would be terrible suffering.  Burn victims, cancer victims, anyone in terrible pain would have no release from their agony.  Yes, Death was a necessity, even if it was sometimes unwanted.

            "I understand now," said Harry.  "I just wish it could be different."

            The boy smiled and strolled towards the front door.  He picked a flower and deeply breathed in its scent.  "Maybe you and I will get along after all."

You like it!  You really like it!

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Love to all,

Adah

P.s. If you want me to e-mail you when I update this story, write down your e-mail address in the review box or in an e-mail to me (see my bio page).  Even if you've requested e-mails from me about my other stories, please tell me if you want e-mails about this one (that way I don't send e-mails to people who don't want them and I remember to sent e-mails to the people who do want them).  Thanks!


	4. Three's A Crowd

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit. How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".

Chapter 4: Three's a Crowd

----------------

Aunt Petunia may have been harsh, but she always wanted to appear hospitable, especially towards guests. By the time the boy and Harry had gone back up to his room, there was already a cot set up next to Harry's bed complete with sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

"Um, so you can sleep here," said Harry, motioning to the bed.

Death walked over to the bed, sat down, and bounced a few times. "Yes, this will do."

Death fingered the blanket, as if testing it, and patted the pillow. Harry watched all this with an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Harry had just opened his mouth to say something when a scream was heard from downstairs.

"What was that?" asked Harry, to no one in particular.

Death looked towards the door, unconcerned.

A rush of footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, and the unmistakable sound of Dudley slamming the door could be heard next. More footsteps followed and Petunia could be heard bargaining with her son outside his door.

"Please, Dudleykins, it's only for a while…" pleaded Petunia. "The school won't let us send him away. Besides, he can't hurt you…"

"No!" shouted the muffled voice of Dudley. "I refuse to live in this house with another one of those freaks! They're dangerous!"

Harry smiled. "Looks like Aunt Petunia just told Dudley that you were staying…" he said wryly to Death.

"I wonder why he is so upset," said Death thoughtfully.

Aunt Petunia was still pleading with Dudley. "Come on, Dudleykins, I'll buy you a new game…"

"No! If that freak doesn't leave this house, I-- I won't eat! Not one thing! And it will be your fault! Because of you, I'll starve!"

"Unlikely…" muttered Harry.

"But Dudley--" started Petunia.

"No! No, no, no!" screamed Dudley.

"Your cousin-- He seems a bit… needy…" stated Death.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Boy, is he ever!"

Petunia burst into Harry's room. "Harry, you have to tell your school that your friend can't stay here! He is upsetting this household!"

Death looked at Harry pointedly, interested in what his answer would be.

"Um," said Harry, glancing at Death's patient expression, "No?"

Petunia's eyes widened. "You have no choice! He _has to_ leave!"

"But Hogwarts won't let anyone else take care of him," lied Harry, a bit unevenly. "There're no other students in the area."

"What about those _friends_ of yours who are always visiting? Can't they take him?"

"No…"

"Then we'll put him into a hotel! He's leaving tomorrow." Petunia was about to close the door in finality.

"No!" shouted Harry.

Petunia opened the door again with a glare. "What?"

"I mean-- You can't just send him away," Harry stammered. "He and I will only be here for another twelve days. That's less than two weeks! The school needs me to host him while his family is away! I'll get in trouble if I don't. _You'll_ get in trouble if I don't. And he's normal, not like my other friends. He can't hurt Dudley! He can't do any magic whatsoever!"

The "m-word" shocked Petunia, but it helped Harry's argument. "Fine. Your friend stays. But I don't want you bothering Dudley, understand?" Petunia's tone of voice was laced with threats.

"Yes, ma'm," said Harry. "Thank you."

Petunia slammed the door.

Harry turned around. Death looked very amused, which didn't help Harry's mood.

"I hope you're happy!" said Harry.

"That was very well done," complemented Death, pleased.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, well you wouldn't be so happy if Aunt Petunia hadn't given in. I still have Uncle Vernon to deal with, never mind more of Dudley's tantrums…"

Death smirked. "I'm sure you'll find a way to deal with it."

Dinner that night was quiet, relatively. Aunt Petunia had warned Vernon the boy was staying over beforehand, so Vernon had no sudden outbursts. His face also had time to fade into a lovely maroon color, instead of his usual purple.

Petunia sat at the table, glaring at her husband and son, willing them not to make a fuss in front of a guest, whose family was new to the area, and in front of the windows where the neighbors might see them. After all, she didn't want gossip to be spread (although she seemed to have forgotten her little stint that afternoon).

Vernon ate quickly, angrily glaring at Harry, as if all this was his fault. Dudley kept shooting frightened glances at Death while shoving his food into his mouth in an effort to leave the table as soon as possible. Apparently, he had forgotten about his earlier promise and was as hungry as ever.

Harry just felt awkward. On one hand, his aunt was making an effort to be polite in front of this guest, but on the other, he knew that it was taking a lot of energy for the Dursley's not to kick Harry out of the house right then and there.

Death seemed to be the only one undaunted. He ate his food carefully, examining every bite on his fork before he ate it.

"This fish is quite delicious," the boy would say. Or he would hold up a piece of asparagus and ask Harry, "What is this tasty food called?" Death seemed to enjoy every bite and seemed quite fascinated with eating in general.

Petunia and Vernon just looked at the boy with dubious and suspicious expressions, trying to understand why this boy was so interested in dinner.

Dinner was soon over, and though Harry tried to pull the boy away from the dinner table, Death insisted that he should stay right where he was.

"I think I would enjoy eating more food," Death told Harry factually.

Aunt Petunia glared at the boy slightly.

Vernon and Dudley quickly left the room and left Petunia to deal with the "freaks" and dishes.

"Um, I guess I can make you some more dinner…" said Harry uncertainly.

Petunia frowned at Harry.

Harry walked over to the refrigerator and peered inside. "You could have some chocolate cake… or some celery… or vanilla pudding… or left-over meatloaf… or a grapefruit…" Harry closed the refrigerator. "I guess I could also make you some toast, or a peanut butter sandwich, or some soup…" Harry trailed of lamely. He finally just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, "Oh, I don't know…"

Death looked thoughtful. "I think I will try all of them."

Harry blinked a few times. "Um, excuse me?"

"I would like to try all the foods you mentioned."

Harry looked at Aunt Petunia. She was furiously washing dishes and it appeared as if she was making an effort to ignore her nephew and his friend.

"Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry. "Would that be okay? Are you saving some of those foods for anything?"

"Your friend can have the celery," Petunia answered.

Death raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?" asked Harry, interpreting Death's look.

"And the peanut butter sandwich, if he must," ground out Petunia. "But nothing else. Especially Dudley's food."

Death looked mildly pleased and Harry pulled out a plate to fill with celery, toast, and peanut butter. Aunt Petunia finished with the dishes and, with one final glare towards Harry, left the kitchen.

Death and Harry sat down at the table with the plate of celery and sandwiches in front of them. Death munched on the food while Harry stared into space.

"I think the peanut butter tastes better with the celery than with the toast," commented Death after several minutes.

Harry's thoughts were scattered. "What? Oh, the peanut butter. Yes, some people do eat peanut butter with celery."

Death stopped munching suddenly. "What is that?" he asked.

"What's what?" asked Harry. The sounds of a television program drifted into the room. "You mean the television?"

"That is where the sounds are coming from?"

"Yes…"

The boy looked curious. "I have always wanted to see one of those…"

And before Harry could stop him, Death grabbed the plate of celery and peanut butter and shot towards the living room.

Harry walked in after the boy and was met by a very strange sight. Death had wedged himself in between Dudley and Petunia on the couch. Aunt Petunia looked extremely disgusted, as if a cockroach had just crawled onto her lap and died, and Dudley looked as if the only thing that stopped him from screaming was that he was too afraid to scream. Vernon was purple. Dark purple. And livid.

"Now, see here, boy!" shouted Vernon in Harry's general direction. He had jumped up from his chair and was waving his finger wildly around as if still unsure whether to blame Harry or the boy. "This is preposterous! I won't have your kind ruining my family's evening! You should think yourself lucky to have had dinner with us! Now remove that freakish friend of yours from the couch and GO AWAY! I don't want to see you in here again!"

Death slowly turned his head to look at Vernon. "I do not think you should care whether or not Harry and I join you here," Death said politely.

Vernon swiveled around and looked ferociously at the boy.

Death's eyes bored into Vernon's eyes. "I think it is perfectly acceptable if we want to watch the television," continued Death. "We can watch it together."

Vernon took a step backwards with a mixture of fear and dumb acquiescence on his feature.

"You do not mind if your nephew and I sit here with you," said Death pleasantly but forcefully.

It appeared to be a battle of wills, and Vernon finally backed down.

"No… you're right… You may sit with us tonight only. …" said Vernon as he sat back down in his chair. "This is the _only_ exception…" he finished weakly.

"I knew you would agree with me," said Death, turning his eyes back to the screen. "After all, I would not want to miss out on watching television."

Dudley and Petunia stared in shock at Vernon. He was never this lenient!

"But--" started Petunia.

"He can't—!" said Dudley.

Vernon waved his hand in dismissal and muttered, "Just for tonight, just for tonight…"

Death winked and waved Harry over to sit next to him. Harry hesitantly made his way over and sat down where Dudley had quickly made room for him. Unfortunately for Dudley, his love of television caused him stay in the living room, but his now heightened fear of his cousin made him quite complacent.

Two weeks until school didn't sound that bad to Harry if every day was going to be like this.

-----------------

Um… I realized I had a few chapters already written from, like, a year ago. Sorry…

-heart- Adah


	5. The First of September

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co. J.K. Rowling does.

Summary: Death comes to pay the boy-who-keeps-avoiding-him a visit. How is Harry going to explain Death's presence to his friends? Think "Meet Joe Black".

Chapter 5: The First of September

----------------

Twelve days had passed and Harry was packing his things for school. Apparently, Dumbledore didn't want Harry wandering around in public places; he ordered Remus to buy Harry's school supplies for him. Everything had been delivered earlier that week.

"You're positive you want to come to school with me?" asked Harry as he stuffed the last robe into his trunk.

"Yes." Death was staring out the window, absently picking at the paint on the windowsill.

"But I have no idea how to smuggle you in!" Harry pushed on his trunk, trying to close it. "Everyone will notice if a non-student suddenly starts following me around Hogwarts!"

"Then make me a student."

"It's not that simple." Harry sat on his trunk and bounced, trying to close it. "You have to be a wizard, they have to send you a letter, you're parents probably have to sign something, you'll probably need money, and, _oh yeah_, you can't be inhabiting a dead guy's body!"

With one final bounce, Harry was finally able to snap his trunk closed. "Look, I can't take you to Hogwarts. There's just no way to do it. You'll have to find some other way to occupy yourself."

Death slowly turned around to face Harry. "Do you realize how uninteresting and emotionless my vacation will be if I am not with you at your school?"

Death walked towards Harry. "Do you realize that I will not learn a single thing about emotions if I am not around you?"

Death was now right in front of Harry, his eyes staring intently into Harry's, his face so close that Harry could feel the boy's breath against his lips. Even though the boy was only a tiny bit taller than Harry, his expression and stance made Harry feel afraid and uncomfortable.

The boy leaned in towards Harry. "Do you realize," Death whispered into Harry's ear, "That someone you love will die sooner just because you would not bring a guest to school?"

Harry gulped.

Death straightened back up, clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled expectantly.

"I— I'm sure the other kids would believe me if I said you were a transfer student," Harry said nervously. "And I'm sure Dumbledore would let you attend Hogwarts if you helped me persuade him."

Death smiled and nodded approvingly. "Good. I knew you would find a way. By the way, how do you feel?"

"Right now?" asked Harry, looking uneasily around.

"Yes."

"Well," said Harry, "I'm nervous, and a little apprehensive, and maybe even excited."

"Why?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nervous because I hold the life of a friend in my hands. Apprehensive because I don't want to get caught trying to get you into Hogwarts. And excited because in about half an hour, I'll be leaving the Dursleys."

"I see," said Death thoughtfully. He turned and went back to staring out the window.

During the silence, Harry thought over the plans for Death's attendance to Hogwarts. Ever since that TV thing with Uncle Vernon, Harry had noticed how… _convincing_ Death could be. Harry was sure Death could convince Dumbledore to let him into Hogwarts. And yet, he worried that Dumbledore would see through it, that he would know who the boy really was. After all, what were the chances that the headmaster would let a complete stranger follow Harry, the top person on Voldemort's hit list, around all day? If Death really wanted to attend Hogwarts, he would have mind-wash the world's greatest wizard.

"Um, you're not going to hurt Dumbledore just to get into Hogwarts, are you?" Harry asked, "I mean, I don't really care about Uncle Vernon, but I don't want Dumbledore to be hurt. How _will_ you convince him, anyway?"

Death once again turned to face Harry. "Leaving this world is often cloaked in mystery. Many find me frightening and yet oddly alluring. Death can be very tempting, even if one does not wish to die. People will listen to me and follow me whenever I want them to until I release them. I can convince people because I am the greatest influence. I hold the ultimate answer to the most crucial question of every living thing."

"When will I die?" whispered Harry in answer.

"Yes. That is the question. People obey me because I know that answer. I never force anybody to do anything; rather, people are tempted by that question and will do anything to gain the knowledge of the answer. Dumbledore will let me in of his own free will; he will do anything I ask of him because he, too, will want to know that answer to that question. He cannot help it. Nobody can help it."

As Harry stared into the soulless depths of Death's eyes, he understood the meaning of Death's words.

"Then why don't you use your 'convincing' skills everywhere?" asked Harry, confused. "Why didn't you 'convince' my aunt that you should stay? Why don't you just 'convince' me to explain emotions to you? Why do I need to be involved at all?"

Death smiled and shook his head slightly. "If you were not involved, then I would not have any experience. I would not be able to witness anything first hand. I would not truly understand anything about emotions. I would not get to see you struggle with explanations, excuses, and feelings. It would not be very interesting. My vacation would be ruined."

"But why--"

At this point, there was a shout from Petunia. "Get down here!" she yelled to Harry. "I don't want to be late for our luncheon after we drop you off! Hurry up now!"

There was a pause. "But why--" started Harry again.

The boy smiled at Harry. "Your Aunt wants us to go now. We should respect her wishes. After all, she is driving me all the way to King's Cross just so I can meet up with my 'family'." Death's face shone with amusement.

"But--"

"No more questions. It is time to go."

Harry grumbled and gathered his things. They headed downstairs, past Aunt Petunia ("Would you kindly hurry up?"), and into the car where Uncle Vernon and Dudley were waiting. Harry stuffed his school things into the trunk and sat down between Dudley and the boy. The two boys and Dudley found it rather hard to sit comfortably in the back seat.

"Mum! I can hardly breathe!" Dudley complained. "He's taking up all the room!"

Harry didn't know whom his cousin was referring to. Death managed to look amused even though he was squished up against the door.

"Mum! I mean it! Can't we just leave them here?"

Petunia turned around and looked at her son sympathetically. "Don't worry, Dudleykins, we'll be at King's Cross in no time."

Petunia was almost right; the time it actually took to get to King's Cross was shorter than expected, but Dudley's constant whining made it feel like a lifetime. Harry couldn't remember a time when Dudley looked more relieved than he did when Harry and the boy got out of the car.

As the car sped off into the distance, Harry sighed and picked up his trunk. Glancing at the large clock on the wall, he could see that they were two hours early. "I guess Aunt Petunia couldn't wait to get me out of the house…" Harry muttered.

Harry started walking towards Platform 9 ¾, but stopped when he realized Death wasn't following him. Harry looked around frantically, finally spotting Death near the newspaper stand.

"What are you doing over here?" asked Harry as he approached the boy.

"Looking at these delightful little books." Death smiled as he picked up a brochure about a local golf course. "They seem so fascinating."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Only for those people who are easily amused."

"I wonder if I can buy one of these," the boy said, ignoring Harry's somewhat rude comment. Harry felt oddly relieved.

"You can take as many as you want, you know," said Harry, trying to be nice. "They're free."

"Really?" asked the boy. "I can keep any of them?"

"You can take all the brochures on that stand, if you wanted to."

Death examined the golf brochure some more before setting it back down on the stand. He picked up several new brochures and put them in his pocket.

"Are you ready to go to the platform?" asked Harry.

Death patted his pocket. "Quite."

Harry led Death towards Platform 9 ¾ and showed the boy how to get across. Death seemed to have no problem going right through the brick wall.

Predictably, there was no one else on the platform. The two of them sat down on a bench and waited. The boy seemed content just examining the brochures and Harry pulled out a book. Death asked Harry twice how he was feeling.

Harry was grateful for this one bit of peace before he had to explain to everyone why Death should join Hogwarts as a student. Harry was apprehensive about facing his friends. He didn't know which person was going to die. Harry thought for a bit about Death and which friend he would have to lose, but even thinking about the matter made Harry distressed.

And Voldemort… how could Harry have forgotten about last spring? He hadn't even glanced at a newspaper over the summer and the arrival of Death made Harry forget all about the news Remus had told him. School had seemed a lot more exciting earlier that morning. Now, Harry just wanted to go back to the Dursleys. At least Death made things interesting and he never asked Harry about Sirius or Voldemort. Sure, the boy annoyed Harry and was slightly uncomfortable to be around, but he was never mean or—which was infinitely worse—agreeably understanding, as if Harry was a charity case or made of fine china.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when he started to notice students entering the platform with their families. Harry looked down at the book he had intended to read more of, noticing that he had absently flipped through several pages and, consequently, lost his place. He put the book away and was just about to ask Death what he intended to do about clothing, when a family a redheads (plus one brunette) entered the platform.

Harry froze, hoping for some unexplainable reason that his friends would not see him. The trick did not work, however, and Harry soon found himself wrapped tightly in the arms of Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "I've been so worried! How _are_ you?"

Ron gave Harry a friendly punch on the shoulder. "How's life, Harry?"

"Did you get our packages, Harry?" asked Hermione. "We were only allowed to send three to you because Dumbledore thought it might be dangerous."

"More importantly, Harry, have you heard any news?" asked Ron. "About you-know-what?"

"We've been trying to spy on the meetings, but we can never hear anything."

"Even the twin's new 'Drifting Eye' invention can't pick up any information. I don't see why--"

Ron stopped. Death had stood up and positioned himself next to Harry.

"Um, who's that?" asked Ron, a little bluntly.

Warning bells went off in Harry's head. Harry looked at Death, then at Ron, then over at Hermione, then back at Death. _What was Death's name?_ He had completely forgotten to give Death a name! The Dursleys never cared to ask and Harry had never thought of it. Harry mentally slapped himself on the head. How did he ever think Death could attend Hogwarts without a name?

"Um, he's a friend of mine," said Harry, stalling for time.

"From where?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"You know, from around…" answered Harry vaguely.

There was a pause. When Harry glanced over at Death, the boy seemed entertained by the whole situation.

"Does your friend have a name?" asked Ron.

"A name?" Harry looked to Death for help.

"As in something you call someone…" pressed Ron.

"Um, yeah. It's--" Harry drew a blank. "It's--" _Just say a name! Any name!_ Harry said the first name he could think of. "…Jack."

Death grinned.

"Jack?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And does 'Jack' have a last name?"

Harry pulled on his collar. "A last name?" He smiled uncertainly.

Hermione nodded.

"Of course he has a last name… It's--"

Harry looked around the station for inspiration. Longbottom? Goyle? Hogwarts Express?

Ron itched his nose absently.

"Scratch," said Harry. "His last name's Scratch."

"Well then." Ron gave Harry a funny look as he reached out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Jack Scratch."

Death smirked and shook Ron's hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Ron Weasley."

Hermione smiled pleasantly as she put out her hand. "And I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to see you."

Death shook her hand. "Likewise," he purred in a soft voice.

Hermione shivered. Harry had no doubt that Death had already known Hermione's name, just as he had known Ron's name, and most likely knew everything else, too.

"Jack's a transfer student," said Harry quickly, trying to stop more of Hermione's questions. "He's going to be staying with me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"Oh yes," said Harry, nodding vigorously, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Definitely."

"But--"

"Why don't we get a compartment?" asked Harry, abruptly changing the conversation. "I don't want to end up with Malfoy."

Ron and Hermione said nothing, but Harry could tell they were just saving their questions for another time.

Together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the newly named Jack boarded the train and found an empty compartment. Ginny was happy sitting with her friends in a separate compartment and the other 6th year Gryffindors were nowhere to be found.

The group sat down in an uncomfortable silence. Soon, the train gave a lurch and they started the long journey to Hogwarts.

-----------------

Um… I realized I had a few chapters already written from, like, a year ago. Sorry…

-heart- Adah


End file.
